Lockers
by Littlemiss writer 2001
Summary: John is in a new school, with no friends and a traumatic past. By the lockers, he meets oddball Sherlock Holmes, who is not liked by anyone but John. Their surprising number or similarities bring them together. Teen johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

**_ AN before I start, I want you to know that I write this mainly for myself but partly for those who follow me as an author. It would mean the world to me if you reviewed and I would also respond to any queries or criticisms you may have. Also, if you have a story request , just pm me (or guest review) and ill do my best. Thanks! _**

I focused on putting my books away in the locker. New, shiny locker. Not covered in pictures. Not like my old one, in my school where- stop it. I cursed myself. Reminders were not good. It did not do to dwell on the past. I must move on, forget. I trained my thoughts on organising my books first by size, then colour. I unfolded my new timetable, flickered my eyes over the days subjects before carefully selecting the appropriate books. New books. New school. New classes. New people. I ignored the rush of people, trying not to catch anyone's eye. Until i was used to this, to the school and the constant haunting, friends and girlfriends were a definite no-go. Anything could set me off. I didn't need this. The locker next to mine opened,revealing a messy interior of mold, torn books and a section of-

" Are those human thumbs?!" As soon as the words left my mouth, I willed them back and prayed the owner of the locker with said objects was not listening. No such luck. A head of soft, floppy black curls turned my way.

" Yeess.." He answered lazily, as though this were obvious and a normal thing. As his eyes caught mine, I noticed the sharp, clearness of his and the pronounced, pale face. I noticed I was staring and quickly averted my eyes as he continued to look mw up and down, studying me as though I were some book. Hardly interesting from the outside, wearing casual clothes to fit in , I was very different on the inside. If only you knew what made up this boring person you see , I thought bitterly. The boy seemed a solitary type, given that he was the only one not surrounded by people and seemed happy about this. He was intriguing, the only one wearing a suit, although the shirt was unbuttoned at the top, the shirt was tucked in and his shoes shined. The boys face ,upon further inspection, seemed bruised and I could see no reason for him to have enemies. At least, until he spoke again.

" Brother or sister?"

"What?!"

" Who was it that shot you, brother or sister?" He seemed impatient. I stood there , silent. He tapped his foot.u

" Sister" I croaked, after an age.

" Thought so. " he replied triumphantly. " And your father also drinks , and your mother, dead?" I began to shake . Memories flooded my head , swirling. Darkness, men, guns, alcohol, pain,blood .. Images swirled around , dizzying me. I leaned into the locker for support. I went to ky happy place like my therapist told me to, thought of happiness but the darkness kept cascading , falling in on me and I couldn't fight it , couldn't breathe.

" John?" The floppy haired boy looked mildly concerned, but mainly intrigued. I didn't, no, couldn't think of how he knew my name as I fell, unconscious to the floor.

"John?" A voice pulled me out of the darkness, the world going back into focus. The floppy haired boy was looking at me with a very peculiar expression.

"What was that? " I said , gingerly picking myself up off the floor and checking for injuries. " Who are you? What's your name? Where are you from? Will we be in any of the same classes? " my words and questions tumbled out of my mouth, jumbling up in their attempt to leave my head. The boy smirked at my awkwardness.

" The name's Sherlock Holmes, I'm a consulting detective and genius, and as for what that was, it was a deduction. Your jeans are patched, someone does that for you, a woman because of the stitches. So, a mother. But they cant do it anymore as no-one else has patched up the new hole. And the patches are faded. So your mother is dead. Your fingers smell of alcohol, but you are underage and sensible. So your father drinks. Your bags are second hand, but you carry them strangely, so a hand-me-down. The bag smells of alcohol as well, so your sister drinks. You were shot in the knee,you can see the scar through your jeans. Your father was a military man, you stand straight and are orderly in your ways. You look betrayed, so the person who shot you was close to you. Not your father, he was military, so your sister. She then felt bad so gave you her old school bags as a gift to say sorry. " I stood there open mouthed.  
" brilliant!" A gang of boys thundered down the corridor, yelling 'Freak' at him and knocking him into the locker. The corridors were now empty, and  
I didn't want Sherlock to leave. I was dealing with trauma in a new school. I needed all the friends I could get. I began to go to chemistry, hating my leg and beginning the painful shuffle that was limping. Sherlock caught up with me, not difficult with his graceful stride, and asked  
" How?" It needed no explanation. I sighed, steeling myself.  
" One night, Harry and Dad were drunk to high heaven. I had gone out to the garden to hide, and my mum had gone to coax me inside. Harry and Dad decided to grab Dad's guns and shoot into the night. The shots , they peppered my Mum and I was shot twice. Shoulder and knee. Mum died of her wounds and I was sent away to boarding school near a therapist. " I finished.  
" I'm sorry?" He said, sounding so questioning that I burst out laughing.  
" Was that not the right thing to say? " I continued to laugh.  
" Tell me! I don't understand human emotions and social protocols. "  
" No, it was fine its just.."  
" Just what?"  
" You are a funny one, Sherlock Holmes. Meet you by the lockers after Chem?" He nodded and hurried off in his graceful gallop. I wanted to know more about him. I felt gravitated towards this strange fellow. I wanted to keep him close.


	2. Chapter 2

(( AN Sherlock 's point of view. When I change viewpoints it should be fairly obvious but if it isn't then I'll say. Also, updates won't always be this fast. It will be sporadic. And thanks a lot to Andy'sLoveTriangle for the review!))

I slouched at the back of the exceptional chemistry classroom, flicking distractedly through a textbook. Easy, all far too easy. I learnt this all years ago. As the lesson went on,my thoughts strayed from chemistry to John Watson. I remembered him turning pale as I deduced him like many before him, fainting clean away like every other idiot in this hell-hole. But when he did black out, did I feel something? A flicker of panic?  
I shoved the unwanted thought away quickly, replacing it with scorn. No. He was just another idiot. But he called me brilliant,unlike anyone else, and the look of disgust was barely disguised when those group of morons decided to shove me. My thoughts turned darker as I began to wonder what would have happened had John been there last night, had he been there at any other time like it. I was deep in thought as the teacher caught wind of my lack of concentration and asked a question. I barely looked up, barely broke my train of thought when I answered.

John mightn't be all that stupid. He may be of the handful who put up with me, for some reason unbeknownst to me. Molly Hooper and Gavin...no...Gary...no.. Graham ...no.. Humph. Lestrade. If he were, he won't stick around for long. He's new, he doesn't know what the rugby team he's so keen to join think of me. They are all inferior, and so I must think nothing of it, and just move on. But John asked me to meet him by the lockers... He wants to see me again,so I can't have scared him too much. I shall have to wait for further information before I make any conclusions.

The bell for the end of class sounded , and I stood up, slinging my bag onto my shoulder. I loped my way to the door, about to leave when the teacher grabbed me. I quickly deduced her.  
" When are you planning on telling your boyfriend you're pregnant?" I dashed out of her grasp as she stood in the doorway, gobsmacked. I had just made it to the corridor where the lockers were, I could even see John, when one of Anderson's gang slammed me into an empty classroom. I ran my eyes over them, scanning each and every one of them. Then, before they could begin the jeering, I began my quick-fire deduction.

I saw him, and was about to walk to him when he was bundled into a classroom. I didn't like the look of it, but I thought that maybe they were friends so left it for a while.

As the corridors cleared and time passed, I began to get suspicious . I had waited long enough. I strode up to the door, pushing it open. There was a crowd of boys and a couple of girls all punching and kicking. Not each other, some unseen thing in the middle. I cursed my height and went in, pushing my way forward.  
" The new boy wants 'is share! Let 'im in lads!" The crowd parted to reveal a beaten , bloodied Sherlock. I stared. His form, so tall and elegant, was now curled in a heap on the floor.  
"Is you a wuss or summat? Just punch ! " a loud, obnoxious boy yelled . So I turned, and I punched. That boy was backing off now, cradling a bloody nose and yelling at me " You'll regret that" The others turned on me. I stepped closer to Sherlock.  
" You touch him one more time, and you'll be a lot worse off than he is." I threatened, making my voice low and dangerous. The crowd dispersed and slinked off. I turned my attentions to Sherlock. I helped him stand, allowing him to lean on me as he shook but being careful of his cuts and bruises.  
" Stupid thing to do." The first words that left his mouth were not the expected ones.  
" What?! I saved you!"  
" I've had worse. And they have you down as a target now, all the worse for you. " I simply gaped at this extraordinary boy.  
" Sherlock, don't you get it? I don't care. I can't let anyone be bullied like that. Its just horrible! To let it go on- its just not human! "  
" Good job I'm not human then."  
" What?"  
" You seem to say that a lot. I am a machine. Anderson, Donovan and lots of others say so. I have no heart. " he said, completely deadpan so I nearly believed him.  
" No. Else why would you care if I were hurt? Besides. I need you. You're the only friend I've got. And you probably need my protection. " I cringed a little at the lonesome and despairing thing I had said.  
" We aren't 'friends' . I don't have 'friends'. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me. " and with that cool remark, he turned on his heel and left. And with that I felt as lonely as ever.

At least I would no longer have to guess what John would do. As I thought. He is no better than the rest of them. I sharply inhaled a breath as the adrenaline wore off and I became acutely aware of the cuts and bruises. I was itching for a case, a cigarette, anything to distract me from this god-awful place.  
A strange boy sidled up to me. He was about the same height as me, with sandy blonde hair and a face that looked like it had been squashed. He was here to deliver a message, and was simply someone else's lackey. I faced him, matching his solid and military pose.  
" You. Sherlock Holmes. Someone has a substance they wish you to try. It would distract you and make thinking easier. If you wish this, follow me." I knew what he was referencing, and thought that it would be a useful experiment if nothing else, as I followed him through the throngs of people who filled the air with meaningless chatter. Although it was meaningless, it meant that conversations such as these could take place without anybody noticing. And for that, I am grateful.  
The boy took me round to the back of the bike shed, a rusty and dirty place that nobody would expect to see me, immaculate Sherlock Holmes. Another boy was waiting there. A small, knowing smile played across his lips. His suit was immaculate, like mine. He stuck out a hand.  
" Jim Moriarty." The soft Irish brogue fitted him, making him seem dangerous and slippery. He smiled.  
" Sherlock Holmes." I replied, giving him no such smile. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together.  
" So. The reason you're here. I have something to give you that will take the boredom away. " he stepped closer, his dark fringe brushing my forehead. He looked up at my face, being slightly smaller than me, but not as small as John. He slipped a hand under my jacket, a small,cool packet sliding around my waist with his hand as he trailed his fingers across my hips. His touch burned my skin and I immediately distrusted him, in the same illogical way I immediately trusted John. He breathed on my chest, inching closer and closer.

I walked around school, angry and upset. A friend. That's what I thought I had found. I truly cared for him, and he had pushed me away. I kept absent-mindedly wandering back to the same place - the lockers. His words rang in my ears, and I ran. I ran outside, away from the crowds and round to the bike shed. Behind there, there were two boys in suits, very close to each other. The shorter one was running his hands all over the other. He noticed he was being watched, and stepped quickly away.  
" So! Just give it a try! Come back if you want more.." The shorter one went away, his soft Irish accent staying with me long after he had left. The taller one turned to face me, showing me that it was unmistakably Sherlock.  
" You are right. "  
" What?"  
" Could you try to be a little less slow? You are right . I do need your protection. " he walked to me, striding past me. I struggled to keep up, crutches making me slow. " Feel privileged. It is not often I am wrong."  
" Not often you admit it, more like" he cracked a smile, laughing a little with me. His deep baritone resonated through me.

We walked back, John filling the empty space. He made me laugh, he cared for me. Maybe he wasn't like the others after all. I felt the packet in my coat pocket. Though it did not weigh much, it felt like it weighed me down.

Much later, after Physics - waste of time- I found myself sitting in the toilet, package in hand. It would be so easy, so just inject it all. But that would destroy my months of careful avoidance, my sleepless , feverish nights . Oh, but I wanted it so bad. I shook with the gravity of the situation. There was a knock. John.  
" You alright mate?" I opened the door just a crack. He stared at me. I slammed it shut. I turned and slid to the floor, shaking. If I did, I knew the nights of frantic searching would begin. But the release... I wanted it so badly. What to do?


	3. Chapter 3

Ok, so this isn't actually littlemiss writer 2001- I'm Opal Kunoichi and basically, her mum stopped her from going onto ff, so I'm posting these here for her so that u can read! She is still writing these, I'm just posting.

Hopefully she'll be allowed on again at some point but we're not sure if/when that'll happen. So in the meantime, hi!

((A/N updates shall be a lot less frequent now, possibly even as little as once a week. And thank you to AndysLoveTriangle for the help with writers block! I also apologise for the shorter chapter.))

An hour earlier...

John

"Hey. I'm Greg. Greg Lestrade. You must be the new boy everyone's talking about. " a blond boy walked up to and started chatting to me. He seemed friendly enough, nice and up to date too. Although quite why everyone was talking about me I didn't know...I must've looked confused because Greg elaborated.  
" You know, what with the whole defending Sherlock thing and punching Anderson in the face? Pretty cool. No-one's ever stood up to him before, and certainly not for Sherlock. " I was dazed. One day in, and already I was known about the school? I realised I hadn't told the boy my name, so proceeded to do so.  
" John. John Watson. I've noticed people don't like Sherlock much. What do you think?"  
" He's ok. I mean, he's an arrogant fool, but he's a brilliant arrogant fool. Anyways, Molly and I are the closest he's got to friends. We've gotta keep an eye out for him. Although if you stick around, we may not need to. " while he spoke, I noticed a short, pretty brown-haired girl at his side. This must be Molly. Suddenly, she opened her mouth.  
" just be careful. He used to be, and still is to some extent, a cocaine addict. We try and keep him clean,but as his roommate you'll be able to keep a closer eye on him. " I was shocked by this. The calm, collected and brilliantly clever boy who could tell everything about me from a glance, he was a junkie?! Ludicrous. The idea was absolutely ludicrous! Yet I could see the pull of it from his point of view. I could see why. It was just astounding. And that other boy I saw him with, was he a supplier? No doubt about it, despite his brilliance , I needed to watch over him.

I chatted to Molly and Greg for a while, before noticing that Sherlock had been in the toilet a long time. I excused myself, crossing over to the men's . It appeared at a first glance to be empty, but from one of the cubicles I heard the strangest sound. It was like a cry of want, strangled and suppressed, mixed with a shout of frustration. I went to investigate. I knocked on the door. It opened a crack. Through the sliver of space I saw an azure blue eye set in a pale face, a dark curl and the most pronounced cheekbones I had ever seen. It was, without a shadow of doubt, Sherlock Holmes.

A sharp bang, and I could no longer even see a sliver of him. I stood by the door, waiting for him to come out. There was the sound of shaking metal on glass, and then a crash as a broken syringe with a powdered substance in it rolled under the door. The door opened once more, and out came a shivering Sherlock. He seemed paler than usual, if that were at all possible, and the bags underneath his bright eyes seemed accentuated as he shrank into himself. I put a tentative steadying hand on his arm, intending to help guide him , but he brushed me off with a few words and a long-fingered hand.  
" Come on. You need to see our room. " So, like a dutiful puppy, I followed him.

We came to Greg and Molly, and Sherlock stopped.  
" Lestrade. Tell your father I will be needing a cold case very soon. And Molly Hooper... Your father's new girlfriend must cook very well...you've gained seven pounds since I last saw you. "  
" Three" Molly stammered.  
" Mmm... Six." She blushed and turned away.  
" Sherlock Holmes you turn right back around and apologise to her! That was very rude!" I felt like a mother scolding a child as I made Sherlock apologise to Molly, making him pout and her blush. He refused to speak for the rest of the journey.

When we finally did get to the room that I would call home for the next year or so, Sherlock decided enough was enough and began his quick fire deductions. On me. It was amazing! He's just... Brilliant!  
" do you know you do that out loud? " Sherlock addressed a half-sarcastic comment to me. I blushed, deeper than I felt was ever possible. As I entered the room, well apartment would be a better word, my crutch caught on a piece of clothing on the floor. I stumbled back,onto Sherlock, and he caught me. We stayed there for an age, him staring down at my eyes and me caught up in his long limbs, staring up at those marvellous blue caverns. It was like being locked in a gaze, in a more literal sense. And I didn't mind.


End file.
